Morning Sparrows
by matissehearts
Summary: With her, mornings are never dull. A few drabbles in the name of Captain Jack Sparrow and his second mate, Anamaria.


_**Morning Sparrows**_

i.

Warm hands pass over his back, brushing across scars and memories; ones that make him sigh deeply into the pillow, others that call forth shudders. It is a history book, his back. It tells tales of seven seas and teasing death and today, it tells of last night; faint, red scratches about the back of tattooed shoulders, courtesy of her.

"Jack…" Anamaria presses her lips to the shoulder blade, kissing him awake for a moment and he softly acknowledges her with a, "hmm?"

Those tepid fingers continue to trace over the imprinted stories. "Have I ever…hurt you?" She's quiet and ginger, murmuring the words against his skin before resting her brown cheek upon it.

Sparrow keeps his head tucked under the light pillow, his own digits curled beside his mouth in the fashion of a child but he's awake, enough to catch her inquiry and let it sink into his morning conscious.

"Will you if I answer comically?"

"I will."

"...I'm going to back to sleep."

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ii.

There's a rampage of stomping before the creak of a worn out mattress followed by the groan of an exasperated man. Anamaria peers at him indignantly, having pushed him away too roughly for his own good and sent him crashing onto bed where he looked up with eyes full of pain.

"Just one more time," the pirate coos, his countenance contorting into an expression of hurt at her scoff. "Ana."

"Bloody hell, no, Jack." She turns away and heads for the wooden vanity, clutching her breeches that lay crumpled near the edge and slips in a leg. But she's grabbed by the waist and twirled around, a slender back pressed against the counter and she meets his wanting gaze. "Ja—"

The name is swallowed whole by his thirsty mouth, along with any complaint, capturing her lips between his before pouring in a challenging tongue. Anamaria moans against this, fingers rising up his arm to slink about his neck to fist his hair and tug away his hungry lips.

Her cherry mouth feels numb without the pressure of Jack Sparrow upon them and she hoarsely commands him.

"One more time, ye daft pirate," and unleashes him.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

iii.

Sometimes he cannot bear to be without her despite standing right next to her. The scent of sea's caught in her hair, tossing and turning in the wind, coming undone from the braid she's loosely created three times in those fifteen minutes.

"Cut yer damn hair, woman," Gibbs offers in a growl, limping past her with a bottle of breakfast in his hand. A quick curse of damnation is shouted over him and his loud steps down the stairs before she settles back to tying the end of her braid and pushing it off her shoulder.

And she stiffens, he notices. She stiffens beneath the thin material of her shirt at the presence of a too close, too open pirate captain, her hands gripping the knobs of the helm. "Captain…"

His smirk merely grows at the low warning, golden teeth shining with mischief as he lingers behind her, frame against frame, firm flesh against soft. "Which port should I enter, Anamaria?" he asks calmly, kohl rimmed eyes watching the tan skin prickle where her shirt fails to cover, the back of her neck exposed at the pleasure of a playful wind.

"Jack Sparrow," her voice passes through gritted teeth, "so help me, God, if you try something stupid in front of the men."

"I'm watching them, beloved…are you watching me?" She feels his hand glide under the curve of her butt cheek, gripping the thigh beneath it and she gulps down a gasp. "Jack."

"Don't tempt me so early in the morning, hmm? Save these flimsy shirts for when you don't have the men staring at your breasts in broad daylight."

"…Fine."

"What was that?"

He sinks his thumb into her flesh; she grips the knob impossibly tighter.

"Aye, aye, cap'n. Aye, aye."

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Author's Note: Absolute nonsense coming from me! I am a Jack & Ana shipper since day one and I refuse to give up my OTP simply because the girl was taken out of the sequels. Anamaria rocks, point blank. So! I hope you enjoy these ridiculous drabbles, there will be more of them; some a little more racier, others a little less.

Matisse Hearts


End file.
